


Status: Available

by mew_tsubaki



Category: ALL OUT!! - Amase Shiori (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Yosshi trying to adult, and damn straight the moss balls are characters, bc they are important to Yosshi okay, i will make it my life's work to include them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/mew_tsubaki
Summary: It's just communication, between two adults, between two colleagues. Between…two friends. Right?





	Status: Available

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The All Out! characters belong to Amase Shiori-sensei, not to me. I just. Cannot. Let go. Of how cute Futayoshi is. So have a fic. 8D Read, review, and enjoy!

Yoshida knows now not to go drinking. Not with colleagues, not with friends, not even when he goes home to visit his parents and his father offers him a sip of sake. He can't even hold his own against beer; goodness knows what would happen to him if he drinks anything much stronger.

But…it's not _that_ bad, what happened, at least according to Komori. Even on the last day at Sugadaira, when loading everyone onto the bus, the elderly coach pulls the teacher aside with a surprisingly stern and strong hand on the younger man's arm. "You look sick, and you're not even on the bus yet," he remarks of Yoshida.

Yoshida, since the kids aren't paying him attention, rubs his hand over his face, finally okay with looking as haggard as he feels. "The hangover from a couple nights ago… It's lingering."

Though Komori's eyes are unchanged, there's definite warmth from him in the form of a bemused, fatherly smirk quirking the creased ends of his mouth. "You'll learn to get over it."

"'Get over'…? You're not seriously expecting me to go drinking with you _again_ sometime?"

"It's part and parcel of our jobs. Besides, good things come from fraternizing with those your own age."

At that, Yoshida groans and politely shakes Komori off. "Oh, gods, that's right… Futami-san saw me at my worst…"

"And I told you he was amused. It's fine."

"Yes, but—"

Komori seems to believe that's the end of their conversation, though, and he turns and boards the bus, reminding Yoshida to get a move on.

The teacher, at a loss for anything else to say, climbs aboard, his exhaustion catching up with him. So he tucks away in a seat towards the back and slumps down, letting his weariness take over as the hours fly by outside his heavy, closed eyelids.

* * *

It's not until he's home and tosses his bag on the floor in his cluttered apartment that he checks his phone and notices something different. His phone's screen blinks to life in his hand, and a dimly lit message appears:

_You have 1 unread message._

Him? He has…an unread message? That's unusual. Yoshida can count the number of people who have his number on one hand, and not one of them are likelier to text him than call. Well, maybe Komori, but that hasn't happened yet, and Yoshida doesn't think anything's happened on the way home from the high school that would warrant it. So…

He unlocks the phone and sees the message was sent hours ago, when he was still asleep on the bus. Well, that's unfortunate. He wears an actual wristwatch, so he's not keen to check his phone for the time as most of the boys on the team are, growing up in this technological age.

But then he pushes that gripe aside when he notes that it's an unknown number. Oh, good grief. To answer or not to answer? He's a math teacher, not a computer science genius. The phone's a smartphone, sure, but he's got a very vanilla one, without all the bells and whistles, and he wouldn't know the first thing to do if he opens up a suspicious message that bricks his phone.

Erring on the side of caution, he deletes it without opening it. There. Out of sight, out of mind. Time to take a shower before he sits down in front of the TV and nods off still reeking of everything that happened at Sugadaira.

Yet, after he's watered his moss balls and before he crawls into bed to sleep, his phone chimes. Another message has arrived, though this time he's awake for it.

He picks the device up off its charger and checks the screen:

_You have 1 unread message._

Just like before. Also like before, it's from an unknown number. But…even robo-calls can happen twice in a day; so can spam texts and emails. So Yoshida deletes this one, too, puts his glasses on the nightstand on his left, and drifts off to sleep. If he gets another message in the middle of the night, he'll discount it as actual junk mail and continue to ignore it. Because no one's going to reach out to him in the middle of the night.

No one ever has, and no one ever will. Plain and simple.

* * *

Two days later, in the morning, Yoshida receives another text.

It's the same unknown number, and he's at work, doing a bit of extra prep before afternoon classes. Figuring it's ridiculous to deal with this at work, Yoshida deletes that message, as well, and he even dares to leave his phone locked in his top desk drawer for the rest of the day.

A wise decision. He gets through all of his classes, lunch, and afternoon wrap-up without a bother, and he lets himself go a little when he and Komori take the rugby kids to the bowling alley for some fun team-building. He feels like a show-off for the first time in his life, even though Komori nabs the winning strike for his team, and he feels—for the first time—like a part of this team, that maybe there's a place for him here, now that everyone's getting to better know each other on equal ground.

He's in such a good mood that can't possibly be ruined on the way home, even when his phone chirps with a now-familiar chime.

Ah, the unknown number again.

Well… Yoshida gives it some thought. This is the fourth text message in only a few days, and they don't come at regular intervals. The first two came when he should've been available… Then the one this morning, between classes… And one now, after school's out… Hmm. In his good mood, Komori's words come floating to the front of his mind:

_Good things come from fraternizing with those your own age._

…but…no. It can't be, right? Komori has assured him several times that Yoshida didn't make a complete ass of himself that night. Still… He throws caution to the wind and opens the latest message:

_-My apologies, Yoshida-san. I can take a hint, and I'm sorry to have bothered you. Let's just wish the best for our teams this season, yes? Sincerely, Futami._

Oh. _Oh_. OH.

Oh, crap.

It's been Futami all this time?

But, wait. Why is he apologizing…? Yoshida comes to a stop in front of his apartment door, nearly walking into it. Yet he softly bangs his head against it, nevertheless.

Of course. That many ignored messages? Anyone would get the idea that they were undesired. But Yoshida—

He doesn't…exactly believe that. It's not that he's against the idea of befriending others. Just— Is Futami sure? Did he really mean to message Yoshida, of all people? Just because they're the same age doesn't mean they have anything in common. And he can't quite remember how badly a fool he made of himself in front of Tenjiku's coach, so Yoshida is unsure and sick with himself all at once.

At the very least, however, Yoshida knows he's got to correct this poor image of himself, and he quickly adds the number to his address book and types out a hasty response:

_-Futami-san? Yoshida here. It's my bad._

He pauses before he comes up with the rest of what sounds like a measly reply, grimacing while he types.

_-I didn't know the number and so believed it to be junk mail and deleted it. I didn't see your other messages. My apologies. Sincerely, Yoshida._

It's lame and echoes Futami's message a bit, but Yoshida thinks it's the best he can conjure up on such short notice; it's the truth, after all. Message sent, and the math teacher enters his apartment, kicks off his shoes, puts his bag down, and unbuttons the rest of his polo shirt. He's thinking Komori ought not to have a high opinion of Yoshida as he comes around to the team, since this supposed "adult" can't even handle a proper conversation with someone his own age, in the same shoes.

And then his phone chimes.

He blinks, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket, where he truly believed it would be for the rest of the night until he put it on the charger before bed.

It's Futami:

_-OH. Thank goodness! I thought I'd made a huge mistake, pestering you with that many texts. I'm glad that's not the case._

Yoshida blinks again, his eyes lingering on the word "glad." Aimed at him… Well, that's another first.

Now that Futami's in his contacts lists, Yoshida sees a slightly different display on his phone. In the text messaging app, beneath Futami's name, it says, "…is writing a reply." A moment later, that line disappears as another text from Futami arrives:

_-I take it everyone made it home safe & sound? My kids were quieter than usual but had a good sleep on the ride home, though I know our journey was far shorter than yours._

Oh. Okay. Polite conversation. This, Yoshida can do. So long as the conversation stays off him. This, he can handle. So he answers:

_-The students were good, yes. We traveled four hours to reach the training camp, which is a long time for teenage boys. But they weren't restless, which was good._

There. Though tempted he is to slip in that he can't quite say, because he slept all the way back, Yoshida keeps it to himself. Another idea, to mention their day out today, bowling, strikes him to be mentioned, but Yoshida pushes that aside, too. Polite and friendly, but not too friendly. Yoshida's best at making colleagues, not friends. The last time he made friends was junior high, before he got teased for genuinely liking their math teacher and looking up to the good man.

After that… Well, no one likes a smart aleck. So he had no friends. But at least he had a career path. And he's done just fine ever since.

Another message arrives while he's lost in his thoughts:

_-I hope you don't mind my asking, but you're…all right, yes? After that night we were drinking? I confess, I was a bit worried._

Ack! Asking about Yoshida directly! What to do, what to do…?

_-I'm more than fine. I've completely put that night out of my mind. Again, my apologies for my behavior that night._

He stares at his screen for a minute after that's sent. Interesting. His message has gone to Futami, but Futami's not replying yet. In standby, Futami is listed as "available" in the app. Half a minute passes before he's "writing a reply" again.

_-Ah, forgotten it? Yes, I can understand. I, myself, overdid it a bit that night, though I remember it well. In case you were wondering, that's how I got your number. We exchanged numbers that night. Though I'm guessing you forgot to save mine then. And no apologies needed. We've already said "sorry" three times tonight, and I'd hate to make a habit of it, lol._

"Lol"? What is "lol"? Yoshida scratches his head, thinking on the slang kids use these days. Isn't that something they text each other? Surely he's seen it before when he's had to confiscate cellphones in class. So it must be something good, right? Of course, Yoshida's not one to use terminology with which he isn't familiar, so he just ignores it.

But he can't ignore Futami's remark about habit. Does that mean…he wants to make this a normal thing? Texting each other?

Hmm.

It's not the worst idea. Maybe Yoshida could get some help understanding the game of rugby better, since Futami's not only a current coach but a former player himself. He _did_ say that that night, didn't he? That he played? Although…it'd probably just be better to ask Komori or Hoakari.

Still, he doesn't have a good excuse to ignore Futami or to turn him down, and a tiny part of him is curious what it's like, to have an adult friend now that he's an adult and since it's been so long. So…he agrees:

_-Somewhat forgotten. But, no, you're right. No more apologies tonight._

He also thinks no more messages tonight.

And then his phone chimes.

* * *

_-Good morning, Yoshida-san. Practice today, yes?_

The message is a simple one, short and sweet. But this is one Yoshida now gets on a daily basis. For the first few days, he found it irksome, but…now he feels it's fine to let bygones be bygones and let himself be pulled along by Futami. He's not really one to initiate most conversation, and he really can't remember how friendship is supposed to work, so it's best to let Futami take the lead here.

Tidying up his desk and swinging around slightly in his chair in the faculty office, Yoshida composes a reply before heading to class:

_-Good morning, Futami-san. Yes, there's practice, but I'm probably not staying today, as I've papers to grade._

That's only half the truth. Now that Yoshida knows these third years and their underclassmen are serious about their sport, he splits his time between grading and studying rugby, because he doesn't want to be the only idiot in the room. Even that first year, Gion, studies astutely to ramp up his game so he gets more field time.

The day passes, like any other, but these days Yoshida has a bit of a skip in his step. It's been barely more than a week since they returned from Sugadaira, about a week since he and Futami connected, but there's a kind of…excitement about the whole deal. Though he'll never admit it, Yoshida rather understands why students risk texting in class. The thrill of someone waiting to talk to you, to hear from you—it's irresistible.

That said, Yoshida also senses he's probably a bit more excited than he should be. He and Futami just text about simple, everyday things. Mostly their schedules. Sometimes about rugby—Futami's explained three different tactics for him in easy-to-follow detail so far. And…well, there's a good-morning text every morning. That's…different, for the loner type like Yoshida.

That's…nice.

At the end of the day, even though technically it's out of his way on the path to his car in the staff lot, Yoshida swings by the rugby pitch. Things are already in full swing, though he's able to distinguish enough by now to know they're only running passing drills and aren't in the middle of a—what did Hoakari and Komori call it? A red-and-white?

Speaking of which, Hoakari spies him and grins that blinding grin of hers. She cups her hand around her mouth and shouts to him. "Yoshida-sensei! Are you on your way home? Come watch a bit!"

He groans, especially when some expectant and a few hopeful pairs of eyes on the sidelines turn his way. Feeling backed into a metaphorical corner, he goes down to meet them, standing on the other side of Komori. Those eyes linger a moment longer before they focus on the drills, tagged in and switched out and using up as much of the field that will fit them.

"Everyone's in high spirits since the camp," Yoshida remarks to Komori.

Komori grunts, his arms folded in front of his chest.

Yoshida studies him and then recalls the staleness amongst the senior-most players. …oh, right. Something's still stiff between them. But, other than that, the team's in good shape, and the first and second years have a fire lit in them that Yoshida's awed by.

"You're in a good mood," Komori comments.

Yoshida snaps out of his analyzation. "Am I?"

"You and the boys look happy to see each other these days. That's good."

Oh. Right. "Yes. I'm…glad. We communicate better now." His eyes briefly drift to the field, where he spots Sekizan easily and searches for a moment for Hachioji. It's hard to reconcile their current images with how small and timid they seemed as eager first years.

Komori nods, a small noise rumbling in the back of his throat to accompany the movement. He doesn't say more, but there's a sly twitch of his lips, as if asking "That's all?"

Yoshida pauses. But he doesn't answer. He kind of wants to keep his own growth since Sugadaira to himself for now, to keep his new companion private…to keep Futami to himself. So he tips his head to the coach and to Hoakari and waves to some of the athletes. No sooner does he turn heel than his phone chimes, and he can feel Komori's knowing eyes on him. But Yoshida can't splutter and cover, so he just heads for his car. He feels that Komori's smirk is a taunt that means something, so, to try to prove him wrong, Yoshida ignores his phone the entire drive home. He gets another message as he pulls up on his building, but he only looks at the texts once he's inside for the evening.

_-Wow! Papers to grade again! I feel I got off lightly, being a fulltime coach._

_-Surely a teacher has free time, even being a club advisor._

Uh-oh. This is lingering dangerously close near personal territory. Yoshida frowns at his screen, wrinkling his nose at Futami's friendliness.

…although, would it really be so bad to indulge Futami, just a bit? And, if so, maybe Yoshida can make this on his terms, since Futami got what he wanted and can chat with him. After mulling it over through a shower and a dinner made up miraculously of the few leftovers he has—he really ought to go shopping tomorrow—he composes what he thinks is a reasonable message:

_-I do more than grade papers, of course. But, Futami-san, could you be patient with me? I'm not used to talking about myself, if that's what you're hoping._

And send. While Futami's status reads only "available," Yoshida smiles sadly at the screen, antsy and wondering if maybe that was too cold. Can people tell that, from a text? Texts are so impersonal, anyway. How can anyone expect to convey their feelings properly through a medium that has no inflection?

His eyes drift to his moss balls on the top of his drawers to the right of his TV. Mosuke, the plain and simple deep viridian marimo, seems to stare back, letting the quiet of the room answer Yoshida's thoughts. Mokichi, the flashy and leafy green kokedama, exists to be the thing that reminds Yoshida to try new things, because Mokichi stands out in the cluttered apartment with his frilly leaves on top. At that point, Mokichi rolls to the left as he often does, blocking his elder brother from view, and Yoshida chuckles to himself and gets up to fix their poses and add a little water to their dishes. Once Mosuke is cleared and Mokichi glitters brightly, standing tall, Yoshida turns back to the table in the middle of the room just as Futami replies:

_-All right. Can we try something, then? Like—just tell me things you like. And I'll tell you things I like. You can ask all you want about my items, and I'll not ask about yours unless you're all right with sharing more._

…well. That's…much more than a compromise. That's actually a really good idea. And Yoshida replies the only appropriate manner in this case:

_-I like that._

Futami's response is much quicker this time:

_-! Really?! Great! :D_

Yoshida turns his head, making the ":D" look like a happy face. Is that intentional, like "lol"? He kind of hopes he'll get the chance to ask Futami at some point…and then he thinks that's something he dislikes, that, despite both being thirty-two, Futami seems just…so much _younger_ than Yoshida.

Mokichi surprisingly tumbles to the left again, annoying his father who hops up and rights him again—but reminding Yoshida all the same that new experiences are worth it.

Back at the table, Yoshida's phone chimes with a new message:

_-I like that you like the idea. :)_

Yoshida picks up the device and reads it, and even he'd have to be stupid not to realize that's a smile. As a smile also sprouts on his face, he feels the need to mutter a quick "Oh, shut up" to his audience of two. But, thank gods, moss balls don't talk back.

* * *

Now when the good-morning texts come, they arrive earlier in the morning, before Yoshida has even left for work. Yoshida is glad, because he's caught his reflection in the mirror a couple of times now, and sometimes Futami's words paint a dumb grin on his face that Yoshida knows he'd have a hard time taming if he were caught in the faculty office like this.

_-Good morning, Yoshida-san! When I got up this morning, I discovered there were only dregs left in the coffee bag. But I brewed them anyway—and the cup didn't taste bitter at all! I like how my morning started off on the right foot, lol._

From what Yoshida remembers of meeting Futami, he can picture this bubbly guy grinning from ear to ear as he describes this. The mental image comes a lot more easily than Yoshida thought it would. But he can't share that _that's_ something he likes, right? So he goes with this instead:

_-I like getting up early myself._

…hmm. So lame compared to Futami's. Usually Yoshida's interests are. It's been five days of this information trade, and so far Yoshida knows Futami's an only child like him ( _"I like that I get my parents to myself on the weekends"_ ), that Futami likes the color red ( _"I like that Tenjiku's uniform is kind of a red–orange—it catches your eye, like a flame, you know?"_ ), that Futami's a morning person ( _"I like waking up with the birds, lol"_ ), that he enjoys jogging the couple of miles from his apartment to Tenjiku ( _"I like to get my blood pumping for the day, so I can keep up with the students"_ ), that he lives on the top floor of his building ( _"I like the view of my neighborhood at sunrise and at sunset"_ ), that he wanted to become a biology teacher before he became a coach ( _"I like coaching, but I kind of miss doing experiments"_ ), and that he wears far too much athletic wear ( _"I like things with logos on them, but at least they all look good with jeans"_ ).

Whereas Yoshida feels so…plain by comparison. He talks about work-related things ( _"I like to use a dark red pen to correct"_ and _"I like being one of the first or last out of the office"_ and _"I like that the drive to Jinko is short"_ ). He talks a bit about what he does with his free time ( _"I like manga"_ and, feeling that was barely offering anything, _"I like indie animation, especially the foreign kind"_ and _"I like that Mosuke and Mokichi are easy to take care of"_ ). He would talk about where he lives if only he didn't glance around his pigsty and think better every single time.

Still, despite what little Yoshida offers in return, Futami doesn't seem discouraged. He keeps this up, and he treats every fact from Yoshida as if it's a piece of gold he's been given. Like:

_-Red pen? That's very thoughtful! It seems less like scolding, less attention-getting than using regular red. Definitely too bright._

and

_-I like being the first in the office, but I'm always the first out, too. Good on you, being last out sometimes. I bet you're the type to leave only when the task's done, yeah?_

and

_-I haven't read any manga in a while. And I've never watched any foreign animation—that sounds like fun! Can you recommend me some titles? Manga or animation or both. :)_

and, of course,

_-Oh, your pet moss balls! Tell me more about them sometime. :D_

Every response is just so…carefully articulated. He knows how to react in a way that encourages Yoshida to keep opening up, even though he—as promised—never pushes Yoshida on any one single item. He does it so well that Yoshida considers keeping on being swayed by him. Maybe, little by little, it's okay to open up to someone.

After all, how sad would it be to leave this world someday with only his parents knowing him best?

At home, with that thought floating around in his head, he feels a tug of guilt, and he turns to Mosuke and Mokichi. "Sorry," he mumbles to them, and he sprinkles some water on them and in their dishes.

Then his phone chimes, and his mind is back on Futami.

_-By the way, Yoshida-san. It's all right with me if you want to drop honorifics. We're of the same age, and I consider you a friend. And…_

"And"? What "and"? What more else is there? Yoshida feels heat creeping up his neck as he glares at his phone, his eyes unfocused in his confusion. Is—is it really this easy, making a friend? He can't recall. Or maybe this process comes naturally to a likeable guy like Futami.

Oh. That must be it. Futami… _is_ really likeable. He's the type of guy who probably has lots of friends.

Suddenly the heat crawling up his neck slips and falls and can't find its footing as it vanishes. It takes Yoshida a second, too, to realize Futami's said something more:

_-It occurred to me that, in texting, it might not always be the most convenient form of communication. So please feel free to call me, if you like. Any time's fine, too._

Despite his unhappy thought, he can't fight the return of the heat, and it comes zipping back into his skin like a bad sunburn. If he had to talk to Futami on the phone right now—well, he couldn't. He can't trust his voice. But the offer's nice, anyway.

_-Thank you, Futami-san._

He debates before sending that. Is a simple "thank you" too little? What else is there to say? At the last moment, he deletes the honorific before he can change his mind back, and it's progress. It's growth.

Futami, later that evening, well after Yoshida has spent the night glancing and reading "available" beneath the other man's name, sends one more message. This guy, Yoshida is coming to learn, likes to have the final word:

_-:D Yeah, no problem, Yoshida! Oh, and have a good night, Yoshida. -w-_

A good night, indeed.

* * *

"Yoshida-sensei?"

Yoshida snaps out of the hold his phone has on him during his break at school. He looks up and pales when he finds the principal standing to his right. Uh-oh. Oh, no. Has he done something? He's done something, hasn't he? And just when he thought he'd gotten the hang of not letting his phone take over his life as it does with the same teens he teaches—

"Are you all right? You seem to be very intent on communing with your phone these days."

"Oh. Um, I'm fine."

"Are you waiting for news on something? Your family, perhaps?"

"No, no. My family's fine, too." Yoshida bows his head slightly, half out of respect, half bashful. He really _has_ been swept up in texting with Futami. "No, everything's good."

"All right. But feel free to share that smile with the other teachers and me sometime, too." The principal, an older man like Komori but rounder and with far less hair, smiles good-naturedly, and he totters off to catch up with one of the English teachers.

Yoshida, share his smile? He really _has_ let this get out of hand.

And, yet… It's hard to fall out of the habit as easily as it is to fall _into_ it. Between good-morning texts, a quick texting conversation around lunchtime, random messages after practice or the day's over, and even goodnight texts, Yoshida and Futami have a sort of routine, a _schedule_. Not that Yoshida didn't have one before, but this—this is different. It involves another person. And it might affect his work if he doesn't at least rein it in.

But does being friends mean he can just come out and say to Futami that they ought to cool it? (He tries not to think about how he doesn't want to cool it.)

On the drive home—it's only about ten minutes in good traffic from Kanagawa High to his complex—his phone chimes. Nothing unusual, because he's told Futami that he drives home, so Futami knows to wait for replies. Yoshida makes him wait a bit longer than usual tonight, though, while he debates how to broach the topic.

His phone chirps while he's in the shower. But he doesn't answer yet.

He tends to Mosuke and Mokichi while the news plays on the TV in the background, and another message hits his phone. He still doesn't answer.

He makes karaage for himself, enjoys it while he watches the comedy show before some anime comes on, and leaves his dishes in the sink, reluctant to clean up. His phone chimes yet again, but he still hasn't figured out what to say just yet.

Night falls outside his apartment, as noted by the lack of light peeking out around the edges of the curtains hanging by his window. It's close to bedtime, but still Futami's left hanging, so Yoshida picks up his phone at last:

_-Had kind of a weird day today. Ousaka and Sakura had another fight, like at Sugadaira, but they oddly made up before I or Sano intervened? As long as it's nothing serious, I like that these kids are learning to sort things out for themselves, genuinely. Not like at Sugadaira and before then, when it felt more like going through the motions._

_-On my jog home, a hummingbird flew right in front of my face! LOL You should've seen him. He was the most brilliant green; I bet you would've liked him. I liked him, a lot. Felt like a good omen, crossing paths with him._

_-Yoshida? Are you still driving home?_

_-Yoshida? You did make it home safe, yeah?_

Something…grows tight within Yoshida. He doesn't know what, but it's kind of like the tight feeling after numbness passes and right before the tickly needles-and-pin feeling arrives, except this is all over. He dislikes that he caused Futami any concern, so he replies:

_-Sorry. I'm home. Got caught up in_

He pauses. A stray thought makes him believe the end of that sentence ought to be "you." But then he shakes the funny idea from his mind and deletes the entire line. He turns off the lights and climbs into bed, while Futami waits, "available."

Not yet removing his glasses so he can read the screen properly, he opens up his contacts and presses "enter," and a shaky hand brings the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Yoshida?"

It's been about a month since they met, and Yoshida honestly thought he was too plastered then for Futami to leave an impression on him. But…no, Futami's voice is strong and slightly piercing and very familiar. It's sharper now, his tone and diction, not plied by liquor. His voice summons a clear image of him, as well, and Yoshida can stand themselves side by side in his head—same height, but Futami's thicker, more full-bodied, more capable-looking. Cheerier. Handsomer. "Yes, hello," Yoshida bumbles, trying to push out of his mind how Futami's dark eyes look in the lantern lights of a restaurant. Surely his imagination is getting the best of him. "It's Yoshida," he adds dumbly.

Futami breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I saw the caller I.D., but I…" He laughs at himself. "I shouldn't've worried over a few unanswered texts, huh?"

"No."

"Sorry. It's just—you're a really prompt guy, you know? I thought it strange for you to ignore that many messages."

Yoshida squirms under the covers, the relief in Futami's voice making that heat climb the mountain of his neck again. So odd, the effect one's voice can have on another. "How did you know I didn't accidentally delete your information again?" he quips, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. It's working, right? Gods, he hopes so. It's almost painful, the way his jaw muscles ache right now with an instinctive smile he can't fight down.

Futami pauses. "Did you?"

Yoshida gives up. "No."

"Oh." Tenjiku's coach laughs again, but there's even more relief in his tone this time. "Well, I'm glad you called to clear that up. I'd probably think you were sick of me if you texted back one of your small apologies."

Yoshida, too wound up to sleep, sits up, frowning. Sick of Futami? Can _anybody_ be sick of Futami? Getting along with him is so easy and comfortable, it's like putting on a well-worn, cozy jacket. Futami getting sick of Yoshida seems the likelier choice here. "No, that's not it at all."

"Oh?"

Oops. That's a turn of phrase that prefaces more. But…maybe, at this point, he cares to elaborate with Futami. It's the first time he feels the desire to do so with anyone, and he's glad it's with Futami. So, swinging his legs over the bed's edge to sit properly, he speaks with a small grin. "I was just thinking a bit too hard about something. It might be best to skip lunch texts. They're, uh…" Well, he can't say he waits for them as he's seen some of the female students do, especially after they get a boyfriend. That might give Futami the wrong impression.

… Right?

"It's probably best that I work then or catch up on staff matters," he finishes.

"Ah, right, right." Futami pauses yet again, but Yoshida thinks he hears a small snort of laughter. It would be just like this guy to read into Yoshida's words and figure out the truth. Futami guessed the red pen thing right away, after all. "Well… That's fine. I'll behave. I can wait until after school," he says, and there's such merriment in his voice, it's hard _not_ to picture the bright grin on the blond man's face. Something far, far brighter than the restaurant's lantern lights. Yoshida's glad he called now.

Yoshida stands and walks around his bedroom, careful not to stray far from his bed in the dark. Although it's not entirely dark, with the streetlights' reach coming past the window frame. "Can we maybe…chat like usual tonight, not text?"

Another pause. Yoshida has to wonder if Futami really pauses this much or if he just stuns the guy so often. Is Yoshida really that surprising? "I'd like that, actually," Futami agrees. He laughs again. "I like that you called," he begins.

"Me, too," Yoshida admits. He wonders if that counts, considering that's one of Futami's "likes."

"Just earlier in the week was when I made the offer. To be honest, I wasn't sure if you'd ever take me up on it. Except maybe to arrange a training camp or a practice game or something." He inhales and exhales, two slow sounds that further signal his relief. "I _really_ like that you called," he emphasizes.

Though Yoshida is skeptical about someone feeling that way about him, he doesn't correct Futami. "I made karaage tonight," he says, changing the subject. "I like fried things sometimes, but I really love karaage."

"Yoshida, you cook?"

"I do." He sits back down and runs his eyes over the straight lines of the curtain's edges. "I don't exactly _like_ to, but I'm all right at it. I like my mother's the best, so I use her recipe."

"I have to cook for myself, too, though I will never have the confidence in my cooking that you do in yours."

Yoshida smirks, amused.

"I definitely like to eat, though. And karaage sounds good."

Yoshida nearly invites him to come have some sometime…but he doesn't.

"But I already ate, so I'm covered for tonight."

"What'd you have?"

"Don't laugh?"

"I won't laugh."

"…a konbini bento."

Yoshida's cheeks puff out with contained laughter. Maybe… Maybe Futami's not quite the pedestal-worthy image he built him up to be in his mind. Because _that's_ a bachelor cliché, the convenience store food. "Well, it's good that you ate something."

"I told you not to laugh…!"

The math teacher grins, snickering between words. "I'm not laughing."

"Are, too."

Yoshida rolls his eyes. Funny how he probably wouldn't've gotten this peek at Futami's childish side if he hadn't called. (So worth it, though.) "It's your turn," he prods.

Futami sighs. "Fine. I…like having white noise in the background when I go to bed, so I leave my TV on."

"No radio?"

"Nope. And, sadly, it's getting a bit late…"

"Yes, I know. I almost went to bed without touching base."

"Oh."

Ack. "No, I just mean—I wasn't actually planning to sleep without getting back to you, Futami." It'd be rude. Of course, Yoshida gets the sense it's for another reason, too, but… Well, enough has been said tonight, no? And, if Yoshida wasn't going to admit to Komori that he's keeping Futami to himself, he sure as hell isn't going to tell _Futami_.

"I'm glad." There's that smile in Futami's voice again, but it's…gentler this time.

Comforted (only somewhat!) by it (because who honestly is comforted by another's voice?), Yoshida gets back under the covers and takes off his glasses (he's just going to wrap up this conversation, not fall asleep to the sound of his…friend's voice). "So do you just leave the TV on low and drift off?" he prompts.

"No. I was stupid a long time ago and placed my TV in my bedroom. I can't find it in me to move it, though. I constantly rearrange my apartment, but that's the one thing I leave alone. Dunno why."

Even in the dark, Yoshida doesn't need to see his bedroom or the rest of his apartment to know he's got nothing to brag about. His place is cluttered beyond belief, with textbooks on higher mathematical subjects (higher geometry and numerical theory were always his favorites, with analysis and calculus not far behind) and on rugby and collections of far too many manga series. He's got papers he's written, articles he's read, papers he has graded and is grading, sometimes mixed in with the DVDs on his shelf. His casual clothes are half strewn about his floor, both inside the bedroom and out, and maybe the only neat part in the entire place is Mosuke and Mokichi's stand, pristine and sometimes decorated depending on the holiday. He's even got a little top hat for humble Mosuke for New Year's Eve (Mokichi's too flashy and gets only a little glitter doodle-bopper as his costume).

But, in the dark, something catches Yoshida's eye, and it's kind of…enchanting, the longer he stares at it. So he decides to describe it, surprised he never noticed it before but glad it caught his attention now.

"I like how…the light peeks between my curtains."

Futami's quiet. Waiting for him to continue.

"It enters and falls on this stack of books by my bed. Like little motes of light landing on them. They twinkle, almost, like those glow-in-the-dark plastic stars that were so popular when we were kids. Do you remember them? They came in a package with putty, and you were supposed to stick them on your walls or ceiling… But…yeah." He counts the specks he sees; four in total. "I like them a lot."

Futami's quiet for a while, but Yoshida can hear him breathing in this not unwelcome silence. Finally, he chances a soft-spoken "I'd like to see that myself."

Yoshida grins automatically, but the meaning sinks in after half a minute. …oh. _Oh_. OH.

Oh, hell. Does Futami mean what Yoshida thinks he means?

But, either way, Yoshida can't help but allow this unusual sensation—happiness? Is this what happiness is?—to flood him. "Yes," he agrees. "I'd like to share the view with you."

There's a high-pitched, short noise on the other end, and Yoshida's unsure if something happened to the line or if Futami made that noise. Must be Futami, because his voice is uncharacteristically shaky, maybe even breathy, and completely without bravado when he next speaks. "Goodnight, Yoshida."

Ah, over so soon? Well, at least he knows they'll talk another time. "Yes. Goodnight, Futami."

The line clicks, and Yoshida puts his phone on the charger. He rubs his eyes, hoping they really _will_ talk another time, because the texts are nice and all, but there's something different, more attractive, about hearing another person's voice. But he finds it amusing; he had the last word tonight. Maybe he will over the phone, and Futami will via text?

And then his phone chimes. He laughs.

Or maybe not.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. It's so funny, how I went from being really annoyed with Yoshida early on in reading the manga to loving him utterly. I just. I love how he interacts with everyone now—possibly mostly with Komori? Komori's such a dad to him, in attitude. XD But when I read the Sugadaira arc ('cuz I've only read thru ch70 & have yet to watch the anime & see everyone in beautiful color), I ALMOST LOST IT. WITH THE FUTAYOSHI. They're way too cute. I've already written [quite](http://le-amewzing.tumblr.com/post/163181584303/futayoshi-hcs) a [few](http://le-amewzing.tumblr.com/post/163185570418/futayoshi-dating-hcs) [headcanons](http://le-amewzing.tumblr.com/post/163189599223/futayoshi-as-dads-hcs) for them, and I'm working on art for them (and for the moss balls, too!), so…yeah. They're one of my top, if not my fav, OTPs for AO! So yeah. SOMEONE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM~!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review! I've got more AO!! fics in the works (primarily Futayoshi for now, *lol*), so take a look and come visit me on tumblr (at le-amewzing) for [fanart](http://le-amewzing.tumblr.com/search/mew's-art+all-out!!), too!
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :D


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